[Seika Nakajima]

The air was hot, swelteringly so, in the burning ruins of what had once been the hamlet of Chiisana, though Seika didn’t notice, her hazel-gold gaze dull as she examined her nails, utterly oblivious to the steady roar of the white flames around her. That she had ignited those fires, immolating the vast majority of the hamlet in seconds, did not overly bother the Nakajima; after all, she had given the peasants the gracious gift of her presence, had blessed them with the opportunity to feed and house a goddess of flame made flesh, and what had they done? Given her fish. Burnt, saltless fish that had been pulled from the mud and scorched until it was nearly the same consistency as coal. I should have known a hovel like this wouldn’t have quality service.

The black-haired woman shook her head, lips pursing in thought as she strode through the ruins, untouched by the flames. She passed by corpses, little more than smoking husks that only vaguely resembled a human shape, burnt by the sacred fire of her very body. They were sacrifices, necessary deaths to fuel the pyre that would guide the world with her light and vision, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t enjoyed herself. She had saved a few of the stouter men and prettier women from dying right away, if only to see how much they would subject themselves to for a shot at salvation. She’d been lying, of course, but that only made their screaming pleas for mercy all the sweeter as she consumed their bodies in her fiery embrace.

Which still left her feeling rather hungry, but the next hamlet would handle that. Probably. If they didn’t… well. She had plenty of chakra (and daylight) to burn. And there’s always another hamlet. Seika cut the flow of her chakra to the flames burning Chiisana at the thought, the fires fading from white to green to blue to red to gone in time with her steps, leaving nothing but ashes and the smoldering corpses of the villagers behind, just another speck of worthless shit burnt away. One that would add to her already fearsome reputation, if only a little.

"Now, which way was that other hamlet?” The woman said as she walked, black heels treading through the ash and dirt, leaving a trail of footprints for anyone who wished to follow. That anyone could follow, if they bothered to look hard enough. Stealth had never been her forte- that was why she’d had her cloak made, just in case. Pulling up said cloak's hood, Seika strolled down the dirt path, heading west as the sun rose higher in the sky, not quite halfway to its daily zenith, unhindered by clouds and unblocked by trees- though, the smoke did somewhat ruin the view…

kyonosuke